


Like a Devil in Disguise

by loveless_klark



Series: Clexa Week 2020 [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, BAMF Clarke Griffin, BAMF Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Clexa Week 2020, Clexa Week 2020 Day 3, Dark Clarke Griffin, Day 3 time travel, Death, Evil Clarke Griffin, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Time Travel, Violence, Wanheda Clarke Griffin, this gets very dark very fast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:27:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22764727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveless_klark/pseuds/loveless_klark
Summary: Scattered on every wall of her cell was a sketch of someone’s face from the Ark. Her mother. Jaha. Kane. Pike. Bellamy. Anyone she’d known on the ground. She wrote the same message beneath all of their faces. The same one was written on the ground.She wrote it in Trigedasleng, but she wrote a translation beneath the one on the floor.Yu laik ste daun kom nau.You’re already dead.It was a death warrant. One they signed the moment they touched the ground.-Clarke gets sent back in time for inexplicable reasons and all she wants is to be reunited with her Heda. No matter what it takes.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Series: Clexa Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1651270
Comments: 28
Kudos: 434
Collections: Clexaweek2020





	Like a Devil in Disguise

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING:
> 
> There are multiple warnings.
> 
> One: This story is very dark. It includes ruthless murder, animal death, people death, and people enjoying murder. If this bothers you, I would recommend you don't read. 
> 
> Two: This contains themes of possessiveness. Though it is consensual, the consent is not referenced until toward the end. If someone thinking about another person like they own them is sensitive, don't read.
> 
> Three: The end contains sexual references. There are no graphic scenes, but it references sex. 
> 
> Warnings are over. Go on and read.
> 
> Or if you don't, I'd like to say that this story was inspired by two other works. The first is 'Returning to Hell' by ElseworldKara and littleraider99, one that I've referenced many times because it's so fucking good. If you like this, definitely go read it.
> 
> The second is 'I am Wanheda' by TwilightQueenMZ. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and it centers around a concept very similar to this. Again, if you like this, go and read that.
> 
> I hope you enjoy my rendition of time travel: clexa week 2020.

**Tumblr link[here](https://clexa-infinite.tumblr.com/post/611549979460403200/like-a-devil-in-disguise)**

Clarke opened her eyes to dim UV lights.

Her body was sore all over, whether it be from the fight she’d just been in or from lying on a metal floor, she didn’t know. The last thing she could remember was Bellamy, crying over her after shooting her through the heart.

Crying over the death of his enemy.

Weak.

It was a shame she had fallen to someone so cowardly.

None of it mattered now, anyway. Not when she was locked up in solitary confinement again.

How exactly was she here? She had no idea. She had a funny feeling Wanheda played a role in it, and perhaps some of her fellow spirits, but she couldn’t be certain. Wanheda never spoke. All she sent were vague feelings.

Clarke picked up the charcoal that was lying on the floor next to her, looking at the walls. She’d been sent back close to when the hundred were sent down. Good. She wouldn’t have to wait long.

She tossed the charcoal aside. Drawing was for peace. Wanheda is the opposite of peace. 

Her body was severely lacking. The muscle she’d built up had all disappeared, and her skin was pale and unblemished. All signs of her previous life were gone. It would take a while to build back up to where she’d been, but she would have to make do.

Days passed in a flurry. She spent as much time every day as she could trying to increase her strength. She’d need it on the ground, and the feeling of flimsy, breakable limbs was discomforting.

When the final day rolled around, she had gotten nowhere. 

She spent that last day writing out her messages to the council.

Scattered on every wall of her cell was a sketch of someone’s face from the Ark. Her mother. Jaha. Kane. Pike. Bellamy. Anyone she’d known on the ground. She wrote the same message beneath all of their faces. The same one was written on the ground. 

She wrote it in Trigedasleng, but she wrote a translation beneath the one on the floor.

_Yu laik ste daun kom nau._

You’re already dead.

It was a death warrant. One they signed the moment they touched the ground.

One they signed for being so damn arrogant in believing the entire world belonged to them, disregarding the twelve tribes of the _Kongeda_.

It had been a fatal mistake on their part.

It would likely be so again.

The guards burst through the door and demanded to face the wall with her hands up. Clarke complied. Wanheda spat furiously inside her at the undeserved compliance, but she knew it was necessary. They both had something they wanted on the ground, and they would get it.

A bit of pride was worth sacrificing to see their flame again. Their _faya kom ai tombom_. Their flame lived again, and nothing on heaven or earth could stop them from getting to her.

She was marched out of the cell, though she could see the guards looking warily at her message. She stared straight ahead, ignoring the other delinquents. Her mother was waiting by the entrance to the ship. Waiting for her. Waiting to say her goodbyes.

Ha. Like that would happen.

Clarke slipped to the other side of the line, hiding from her mother’s view until she walked in past her without her so much as noticing. The observation skills of these people were horrid.

She took her seat. Wells sat down beside her a minute later. He tried to talk to her. She ignored him.

Actually, on second thought, he wasn’t deserving of her hatred. He’d never done anything to harm her or her _flaim_. Well, he’d never actually known her _flaim_ , but he was kind. He would never hurt anyone. Especially not Clarke’s mate.

“Wells.” He stopped talking about whatever it was he’d been going on about. “I know you didn’t kill my father.”

He blinked. “You do?”

“Sh-yes.” Damn. It had been too long since she’d spoken English. She would have to be careful not to slip back into the familiar tongue of Trig. “Thank you, Wells. For trying to protect me. You’re a good friend.”

Wells smiled nervously. Something about Clarke put him off; something about her felt almost… inhuman. Wrong. This wasn’t the same girl he’d known before. The cold glint in her eyes made that obvious. Still, she was his friend, and he wouldn’t let this waver him. “Of course, Clarke. You’re my best friend. I would never hurt you.”

Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t. No one on the Ark could, not without their guns. Guns were not honorable weapons. Even if Wanheda is death, Wanheda is honorable. She despises guns and all that use them.

The ship jerked, engines humming to life all around them. The doors began to close, and she could hear her mother shouting. For her daughter. For Clarke. Clarke scoffed. For someone so desperate to protect their family, Abby sure did like to send them to certain death.

The dropship detached from the Ark and began it’s plummet.

Clarke hadn’t been awake for this last time. Her stomach leaped to her throat as they fell, fire bursting from the thrusters, completely at the mercy of metal machinery. This wasn’t a foe she could fight. She knew that they would be alright, that they would land safely, but it didn’t erase the fear.

Just like last time, Finn unclipped his harness. Unlike last time, Clarke didn’t care whether or not he died.

He floated over to her, mocking her, calling her the aggravating name of ‘princess.’ She ignored him. If the behavior persisted on the ground, she might not be able to restrain herself from killing him. Or better yet, restrain Wanheda. He’d suffer far worse at Wanheda’s hands than at Clarke’s.

The parachutes opened. The entire ship jolted up, sending Finn and the two other boys spiraling through the air. One crashed into the wall, scrambling for something to hold onto, while the other went headfirst into a support beam and blew his own brains out. Finn managed better, grabbing onto the seats and holding himself there.

They crashed to the ground. The second boy died on impact. Everyone else was alive. Exactly the same as last time. Except this time, Clarke didn’t bother warning them of the dangers of opening the ship. There were none. Even if they were, it was Bellamy. She wasn’t going to help him. Especially not after he murdered her.

The doors opened. Octavia took the first step outside. Clarke watched from the rungs of the ladder. She’d liked Octavia well enough. She was ruthless when she had to be, strong, fought like a warrior. Would likely have been Indra’s successor. She was reckless, though, and cared too much about her enemies. A good warrior she was, a good leader she was not.

They’d landed early in the day. The sun had just reached over the peak of the mountains, illuminating the snow-dusted top of Mount Weather. Their supposed target. Not this time. Not for her.

An expedition still went out for it, though. Just not under her command.

“You heard my father,” Wells argued. “We have to make it to Mount Weather! We can’t survive out here without it!”

“Your father also sent us to our deaths,” Clarke deadpanned. “Plus, it’s been almost two centuries. Who knows whether it’s still secure. It might have fallen apart. The food might have rotted. Animals might have gotten in and eaten it all.”

“It doesn’t have just food! It would be shelter. A place to make a home.”

Clarke disagreed. Finn did not.

“Come on, princess, isn’t it worth a shot?” He said, coming up next to her. “As much as I hate to say it, Jaha junior is right. We can’t survive out here.”

“Then go ahead. Head to the mountain. I won’t be coming with you.”

They did just that. It was the same people as last time. Wells took Clarke’s place at the head.

Clarke stayed behind. She sat on one of the rocket thrusters and stared at the trees. Thinking. Plotting. Strategizing about how best to approach the issue of the Trikru. Or, more accurately, how to make both the Trikru and the delinquents cooperate with her.

She could try and make peace with them. Or force them to.

Then again, the expedition was already gone. Jasper would likely get stabbed through the stomach again. Simple peace wouldn’t be an option.

Forced peace? Maybe. They wouldn’t dare disobey Wanheda. She’d just have to convince Heda to follow her plans. Which would mean they would have to offer something.

Perhaps a few of the more obnoxious kids. A couple deaths ought to satisfy them for a time.

“Well, don’t you look cheerful.” Clarke’s lip curled. Of course, Bellamy would have to antagonize her. “What, mad that your precious council tossed you out?”

The look she gave him made him pause. He took a step away from her. She grinned. “Scared of a little girl, guardsman?”

He scoffed, but the apprehension behind his eyes gave him away. She was glad she could still strike fear into the hearts of men.

“Now, Bellamy, let me make something clear,” she said, standing up. “I know what you want. You want to protect your precious sister. But that’s not all. You want respect. Power. And you will not be getting it from these people.” She walked to him, watching as he shifted nervously, still standing his ground. “Your age and your gun do not make you superior. If you start causing problems, then _we_ will have a problem. Do you understand?” There were only inches between their faces and she felt disgust rise inside her when his eyes flicked down to her lips. She shoved him on the chest. “Do you understand!?”

His eyes widened and he nodded. Clarke’s lip curled up in a sneer. “Words, Blake.”

“You can’t control me, Griffin,” he said, taking a step toward her. She snapped, feeling Wanheda rear her head inside her. “You may think you’re in charge, but you’re not.”

She laughed. “Not yet. But trust me, you won’t want to get in my way. It will only end badly for you.”

She unnerved him. It was obvious. But he was stubborn, and not in a good way. “We’ll see about that, princess.”

That damned nickname. 

She walked away before he pissed off the spirit of death even more.

-

Not much changed.

The expedition came back a couple of hours later yelling about how someone had speared Jasper through the chest. The entire camp freaked. Clarke only laughed at them. Wells came up to her to relay the full story with Finn, Octavia, and Monty behind him. Her apathy put them on edge. They left her alone.

She didn’t do much to help the others. During the day, she would leave camp alone. She didn’t have a knife or anything, but she had Wanheda, and that would have to do. She worked on regaining her strength. She caught her own food with her bare hands, using Wanheda’s powers to give it a quick death. She started her own fires outside and cooked her own food. A couple of times Bellamy had asked some of the kids to try and follow her. She’d easily lost them in the brush. She knew these woods better than any of them.

Her strength was improving, and it surpassed all those in camp. Partially because none of them had ever trained their body, and also because they were starving. Nobody caught anything larger than a rabbit, and the five or ten that were caught each day didn’t feed everyone. They were starting to leave the area as well. The delinquents were loud.

Nothing new happened past that. Clarke rarely joined with the other prisoners, but she knew she needed them to trust her at least a little bit. So she healed Jasper when he was brought back. She led Finn and Wells away from the acid fog when it came around. She went and retrieved Raven. She organized the construction of the walls, helping to attach the boards of wood. She kept Charlotte from killing Wells and had her punished accordingly, keeping her from dying. It was going well.

Lincoln once again got them an audience with Anya. Clarke felt her excitement spike. This was what she’d been waiting for. The time she would reveal her identity and demand to see her _flaim_. Her Heda. 

She led a small group to the bridge, consisting of Wells, Raven, Octavia, and Lincoln. Bellamy and them could be heard tromping along behind them. She’d deal with them later. As long as they didn’t start shooting _her_ , everything would go well. She was certain. So was Wanheda. And Wanheda was rarely ever wrong.

Three horses walked out of the trees. Before they could dismount, Clarke began approaching them, holding up a hand to stop the others from following. Anya sat back down on her horse, watching Clarke come closer.

She stopped a few meters in front. Her lips curled up into a smile. “ _Ha yun_ , _Onya kom Trikru, Oneda kom Heda_ (Hello, Anya of Trikru, General of the Commander).”

Anya narrowed her eyes. “I see Lincoln has been teaching you our ways like the traitor he is.”

Clarke laughed, a cold, heartless sound. “ _Yu laik skechi_. _Linkon don tich ai non nowe_ (You are wrong. Lincoln has taught me nothing).” She looked up into the woods on the opposite side of the bridge. “ _En tel yu reinja gon sen daun emo shuda op_ (And tell your archers to lower their weapons).”

Anya narrowed her eyes. “ _Emo ste. Ha don yu get klin oso sleng,_ _gada_ (They stay. How do you know our language, girl)?”

Clarke smirked. “ _Nou meija_ . _Chit ste meija em chon ai laik_ (Not important. What is important is who I am).”

“ _E_ _n chon laik yu_ , _gada_ (And who are you, girl)?”

Clarke raised her chin. She knew they wouldn’t believe her without proof, but she would enjoy seeing the mirth drain from their faces when she showed her powers. “ _Ai laik Wanheda_ , _Heda kom wamplei_ (I am Wanheda, commander of death).”

As predicted, Anya and her guards laughed. “ _Leyos_. _Chon laik yu krei_ (Funny. Who are you really)?”

Clarke grinned, teeth bared. “ _Wanheda_.”

“ _Beda ai reinja frag yu nowe_ (Should my archers kill you now)?”

Clarke didn’t answer, walking closer. Anya drew her sword. Clarke ignored her, reaching out to touch the muzzle of one of her warrior’s steeds. The horse snorted, leaning into her touch. Anya snarled and Clarke smirked at her, eyes glowing blue. The horse’s eyes flickered closed and its legs gave out, collapsing onto the concrete. The warrior leaped off just in time to not be crushed. Clarke stepped back from the dead beast. “ _Wich ai in nowe_ (Believe me now)?”

Anya backed her horse away, lowering her sword and waving for her archers to do the same. She eyed Clarke warily and lowered her head. “ _S_ _ha_ , _Wanheda._ _Bosh moba ga nou wich yu in_ (Yes, Wanheda. Apologies for not believing you).”

Clarke nodded. “ _Bosh moba teik in op_ , _Oneda_. _Bak na op Tondisi en tel yu Heda ai seiso na sin em_. _Miya sis ai op taim em biyo sha_ (Apologies accepted, General. Go back to TonDC and tell your commander I request to see her. Fetch me when she agrees).”

Anya bowed her head. “ _Sha_ , _Wanheda_ ” She spun her horse around, shouting commands to the archers to retreat. Clarke watched them go with a smug smile on her face.

Octavia, Wells, and Raven were looking at her in awed confusion, while Lincoln was incredibly pale. He dropped to a knee before her. “ _Wanheda_.”

Clarke nodded. “Thank you for all that you’ve done, Lincoln. It will not be forgotten.” He rose back to his feet and nodded in thanks.

“Wait, woah, what’s going on here?” Octavia pushed between them. “Lincoln, why did they keep calling her Wanheda? What does that mean?”

Lincoln looked to Clarke for permission. With it granted, he recited a short version of the tale. “Wanheda is one of the most powerful spirits in our culture, right beneath the spirit of the commander. She is the avenger, the angel of death, and will occasionally rule alongside the commander.” Lincoln pointed to the dead horse on the bridge. “She has the power to administer death with a single touch.”

The skeptical faces were washed away as they looked at the horse, which they had seen die instantly at Clarke’s touch. Clarke ignored their fearful gazes and began the trek back to camp. She looked into the bushes. “Oh, and Bellamy? You can come out. I could hear you trailing us since we left camp.”

She didn’t stay to hear his words, but she could hear him yelling at her back as she walked away. Wanheda’s anger rose. Clarke knew what she wanted done to him and couldn’t agree more. He’d only be a problem.

She’d take care of him tonight.

-

She announced to the delinquents that she’d come to a temporary agreement with the grounders and would be meeting their commander soon. She then left camp before the others could catch up to her.

She stayed just on the outskirts all day, watching from the trees. Bellamy was arguing with Octavia about her, no doubt, and her suspicions were confirmed. Bellamy would never accept her as Wanheda. Not ever. He would turn the delinquents against her. She couldn’t have that. She stayed awake in her tent until midnight.

Entering Bellamy’s tent, she ignored her disgust at his disorderliness. She shook his shoulder to wake him up.

He blinked up at her in confusion. “Clarke?”

“Shut up. I need to talk to you.” She backed up to the entrance of the tent, watching him indifferently. He rubbed his eyes, slowly waking up and stumbling out of his bedroll to throw on a shirt and pants. He followed her outside.

“Clarke, what is it? Did something happen?” She ignored him, leading him out the front gate. Though she’d put up a wall, she’d made sure no guards were established. No one would know it was her.

He had to walk quickly to keep up with her. “Can you answer me? Is this about what you did on the bridge? Your dead horse act? You speaking the enemy’s language?”

Clarke turned around, making him stop in his tracks. She tilted her head, watching him for a moment. “Yes. It is. You don’t approve.”

“Approve?” He laughed. “I don’t believe it. No one can kill something with a single touch. It was a good trick, though. And Lincoln probably taught you the language. No way you could know it just like that.”

“No, I suppose not.” She walked closer to him, the maniacal glint in her eyes making him take a step back. “But I am Wanheda, the commander of death. I am more powerful than you could ever understand.”

He laughed. “Just because you convinced a couple of savages that you’re some otherworldly being doesn’t mean I’ll be convinced.”

She raised her hand and set it on his chest. “Then let me convince you.”

Her eyes glowed ethereal blue and she felt her entire body tingle, her fingertips prickling. She felt him stiffen under her, his eyes widening as he began to choke. “Clarke, I-”

“Shhhh,” she purred, leaning close to his face. “This is my revenge, _lukot_. I only regret that I can’t make you scream.” He gasped for breath, eyes rolling back into his head and collapsing onto the dirt. 

She brushed herself off and turned back to camp, leaving his body on the trodden ground.

-

She heard people shouting from outside.

Clarke stepped out of her tent, watching the delinquents scatter as Anya rode in, two warriors and a riderless horse behind her. Raven whistled from beside her. “Damn, that grounder’s nice!”

An amused smirk covered her face. Only Raven.

Clarke pushed through the wary teens, stepping confidently out of the crowd. Anya bowed her head. “ _Wanheda_. _Heda gada biyo laik sha yu kom op_ (Wanheda. The commander has agreed to your offer).”

“ _Os. Gapa laik ain (Good_. The horse is mine)?”

“ _S_ _ha Wanheda_.”

Clarke nodded, easily mounting the large beast. She looked over the stunned, afraid faces of ‘her’ people. Ha. If this scared them, she couldn’t wait for when they saw her by _Heda_ ’s side. 

She stroked the horse’s neck. It was a black mare, half of a head sticking out of its cheek with large caves and lumps where the skeleton was deformed. It was a sturdy mare, aptly fit for one such as herself. She nodded, turning around and riding out of camp to TonDC with Anya and her guards on her heels.

-

They suspected.

Clarke rode in at the head of the party, ahead of one of the _Heda'_ s most trusted generals. The Trikru knew she wasn’t just some girl. She doubted they thought she was the great spirit of death, but they suspected. She spoke Trigedasleng, she surpassed the generals, she rode one of the most respectable horses they owned.

Clarke rode to the stables, offering the stablehand her mare’s reins and making straight for the commander’s tent. The guards shifted to block the door. She recognized one of them as Gustus, Lexa’s personal guard.

Clarke stopped in front of them. “ _Em Heda ogud gaf ai in_ (Is the commander ready to see me)?”

The guards narrowed their eyes. Gustus spoke first. “The commander will not be seeing a Skaikru girl.”

The Trikru were pushing in around them, hoping for a show. Clarke would give them one.

She snarled. “I am no mere girl. Answer my question, Gustus _kom Trikru_ , or I will force my way through you.”

The people around them bristled with excitement. They expected her to fall. She knew that. None of them suspected.

Anya pushed her way through the crowd, marching up to the guards to tell them of their folly, but Clarke raised a hand and stopped her in her tracks. She shook her head and Anya backed down obediently. It caused quite a reaction.

Gustus looked to Anya. “ _Chomouda yu spek disha gada op nowe_ (Why do you bow to this girl)?”

Anya shook her head. “ _Dula chit em biyo_ , _Gustus_ (Do as she says, Gustus).”

Gustus looked back to Clarke. She grinned, her eyes glowing blue. “ _Klir ai auda_. _Las ste lom_ (Let me through. Last warning).”

Gustus’s eyes widened. He dropped to a knee. “ _Wanheda_.” The Trikru around them fell silent and knelt, not willing to risk the wrath of death. Gustus stood and held open the fabric of the tent. She slipped through without so much a word.

The guards in the tent shifted nervously as she walked past them, but she didn’t care about them. Her _fleim_ sat upon her throne, knife twirling between her fingertips, face masked with dark kohl. She looked up and met Clarke’s eyes and she felt a spark deep within her. Wanheda was elated to finally be before Heda, and if Lexa’s minuscule reaction told her anything, she felt the same from the spirit within her.

Lexa tilted her head to the side, deeming to speak Clarke’s birth tongue. “You are Wanheda, then?”

Clarke dipped her head in respect. “Yes, Heda. I am. I come seeking an alliance between our two peoples.”

“Yes, you are Skaikru.” Lexa stroked her knife up the blade. “You know how things such as these work.”

“ _Sha,_ I do. In return for all of our trouble, I would offer some of our people to you. A sacrifice, for all that we have done and will do.”

Lexa arched an eyebrow. “All you will do? That does not incline me to accept this offer.”

“No, it would not. But I know much of my people. Those that you are currently dealing with were sent here because they are criminals. Some have changed their mindset. Some have not. I have no doubt that there will be trouble between us. I only ask that you would treat the crimes of us as if we were one of your people. Namely, not wiping us all out for the actions of a few.” 

Lexa locked their gazes together and Clarke felt pleasantly hot under her gaze. “Suppose I agree to this. What would I get out of it?”

“Many things. First and foremost, we can help you take down the Maunon.”

Lexa sat back. “Really?”

Clarke’s lips twitched up into a smirk. “We are sibling spirits, Heda. Do you accuse me of lying?”

“No. You speak truth, that much I know. I cannot understand how.”

“And I will reveal it to you after I have the assurance of my people’s safety.”

Lexa nodded. “And so you have it.”

Indra took a step forward. “ _Heda_ , _teik osir chich fig raun disha op_ (Commander, let us talk about this).”

“ _Nowe_ , _Indra_. I have made my decision.” She turned back to Clarke. “We will discuss this after I have my payment.”

Clarke nodded. “How many, Heda?”

She tilted her head. “We will start with five.”

-

Clarke rode back to camp alone.

She already had many people in mind for who to give to Lexa. The useless ones. The ones that would get in the way. The selfish ones. The ones whose deaths would be most accepted.

She rode right through the open gates, the criminals scrambling to get out of her path. She reined her mare in, turning just in front of the dropship to look out at the delinquents. “The commander and I have come to an agreement.”

Murphy scoffed and stepped toward her, seemingly unafraid of the large, dark, two-headed beast she rode. “And since when were you the one who made decisions around here?”

“Would you rather I let the commander bring the full force of her armies down on you?” Murphy opened his mouth to reply but she didn’t let him. “I know you think that the grounders are savages. That we’re more advanced than them. We aren’t. The commander’s army numbers close to a hundred thousand. She’d need barely a fraction of it to bring us down.”

Murphy reluctantly backed down. She nodded. “Good. Now listen. She has agreed to make peace with us as long as we follow her word. She will leave us to govern ourselves for now and has promised to treat us like she would one of her people.” The crowd sighed in relief. “But in return for our troubles, she wants five people turned over to her.”

The relief disappeared and whispers broke out in the crowd. Someone raised their voice above it. “What would happen to them?”

Clarke shrugged. “They would die.”

Outbursts broke out among them. “And you _accepted_ this?” Murphy scowled, once again taking the position as the voice of the people. “You agreed to give them children for them to murder?”

“Would you rather us all be crushed beneath their feet?”

“I’d rather fight back!” He shouted. “You said it yourself: she’d need only a fraction of her army to take us. She’ll underestimate us. We’ll kill her army!” Some people began to cheer, others looked on nervously.

“And what then? When she calls upon even more of her army because you killed the first one?” Clarke urged her mare forward, towering over him. “We cannot fight them. We would not win.”

She backed up, addressing the crowd. “Most of you have been contributing to help sustain us,” she said. “Hunting, building our walls, fixing our technology, foraging for food. You all have been a part of our survival. But the ones that haven’t, that have decided they’d rather sit back and rest their pretty little feet - I say those are the ones we had over to death.”

People began to panic.

They managed it themselves through all the chaos - singling out the ones they thought were more worthy to die than them and pushing them to the front, hoping and praying that they wouldn’t be chosen. She watched as these people were singled out by their friends, labeled as lazy and selfish.

Clarke raised a hand. “Silence!” Her voice rang out over the clearing, quieting the delinquents. They looked up at her fearfully. The people in front, about nine of them, tried to run back into the crowd but weren’t able to. Clarke was amused at the cowardice of her people. At how they sacrificed the lives of others so they could live another day.

“You.” They turned to her, afraid, knowing that their friends had abandoned them to die. “There are too many. Choose who will die.”

They fought. They squabbled and fought and a couple retreated away, slipping back into the crowd. Clarke watched one of them charge up to her instead. “Why should we be the ones to die?”

Clarke tilted her head. “What are you saying, boy?”

“Why should we die? Maybe we should sacrifice you!”

Shouts of agreement rose up. Clarke bared her teeth. “Try and I’ll kill you myself.”

“You see!” The boy shouted, turning around to the delinquents. “She doesn’t care about us! She justs cares about herself! I saw we kill the Alpha Station scum!”

They cheered loudly, pushing forward toward her. She was glad that Wells was elsewhere. Instead of retreating, Clarke swung a leg over and dismounted from her horse. She locked her gaze on the boy. “Come here.”

“No.”

“No?” She clucked her tongue. “Pity, then. I had been hoping you would be one of the ones to suffer by the Trikru’s hands. Instead, I’ll have to give you a swift death.”

He snorted. “Oh, so _you’re_ going to kill me? With what, your horse?”

She said nothing, walking, _stalking_ , closer to him. She could see that her silence unnerved him as he took a step back. She took his chin in her hand, angling it toward her as if she wanted a kiss. “No. I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

The shock she sent through him had him dead in a second.

She looked at the six remaining teens that had been pushed out of the crowd. “Well. I’m sure Lexa will be okay with an extra.”

This time, there was no hope for them rallying support against her. The others were too afraid to disobey.

-

Anya returned the next day.

Clarke had the chosen ones brought out and lined up in front of the general. She handed their custody to Anya, who had their hands tied and lined up behind her horse. Clarke, as the highest power, took point, with Anya behind her and the two guards riding behind the six sacrifices.

They moved slowly with people on foot and got there in two hours. She could hear the whispers of her name, of Wanheda, spread through the people, and a smug smile settled onto her face. No longer would she be deemed an insignificant child. As Wanheda, she had the power of a nation behind her. She had indisputable power.

Lexa was waiting outside her tent for Clarke.

Well, maybe not so indisputable.

Clarke followed Lexa inside her tent. No one else was inside, no guards, no Indra, just herself and Lexa. On the table was a large map of the territory, marking TonDC, the Mountain, the dropship, and each village scattered through Trikru. Lexa circled to the other side of the table, resting her hands lightly against its edge. “So, Wanheda, shall we begin?”

“Indeed, Heda,” she said, dipping her head, eyes lighting up at the sight of their mate, their terrifying _fleim_ , standing in front of them, alone. What opportunities it presented!

“Tell me how you can help take down the mountain.”

Clarke composed a rough list of every asset they had used last time to take it down. The dam, the reaper tunnels, how a single inside man can guarantee the destruction of the acid fog, how they can blow down the doors. Her mind wandered to what Lexa had done last time, how she had walked away and left her to die. Long forgiven, but still not forgotten.

Lexa hummed, her fingers tapping the table in consideration. “And you know this how?”

“Does it matter?” She leaned forward. “Trust me, _fleim_ , I would never deceive you.”

Lexa looked up sharply at Clarke’s name for her. She narrowed her eyes. “I do trust you, Wanheda. _Wamplei_. Our spirits have always worked side by side.”

“And they will again.” She clenched her teeth, eyes scanning her mate’s body. “So, Lexa, have I satisfied my side of the deal?”

Lexa watched Clarke rake her eyes up and down her body, watched how her eyes glowed soft blue and her fingers sparked, a reminder of their deadly touch. “You have. And I will satisfy mine.”

“Good.” Clarke leaned back, tilting her head to the side, tongue running over her lips. “I’m glad we’ve been able to begin this… partnership, Heda. I look forward to more of it.”

Lexa’s eyes darkened to a rich brown, Heda howling gleefully within her at this playful banter. She’d felt an unexplainable tug every time Wanheda was within her sights, Heda urging her desperately to take her, to grab her roughly and claim her as theirs. She had known that the spirit of Heda had a particular affection for its counterpart, but not one so… animalistic. She couldn’t deny that it was swaying her. The girl’s cold beauty didn’t help either.

Clarke knew the effect that she had on Lexa. Wanheda cackled, enjoying every second with their mate, and Clarke couldn’t deny that they both had desires. She strolled leisurely around the table to stand next to Lexa, leaning in close to her ear. “I know what you want, _ai fleim_. Don’t deny us both of it.” A hand reached up to squeeze Lexa’s neck lightly before she turned away, leaving the tent.

-

They stand side by side in front of the chief’s hut, Indra, Anya, and a few others a few feet away. The six delinquents had been tied up to the posts, torches illuminating them in eerie orange light. A scout had been sent to fetch the other Skaikru, who now crowded near the gate, watching with rapt horror.

Lexa raised her voice high and clear, speaking in English for the ease of her guests. “People of Tondisi! We are gathered here today to take the first step toward peace with the Skaikru. They have not made it easy on us: they have burnt down our villages, chased away our food, taken prisoner to one of ours. As their leader, Wanheda has agreed to hand over a number of her people to be killed. We will secure peace for our peoples and avenge the deaths of our brothers and sisters!”

The ruckus they made for their Heda shook the earth. Lexa took her knife, drawing it slowly as she approached the six kids tied to posts. They thrashed and struggled to no avail.

Before, Lexa had always taken the last cut, had been the one to usher the kill. But now that Clarke was here, it reversed. Heda took the first cut, and Wanheda took their life. A tradition she had never taken part of before, with all that was going on.

Lexa stood in front of the first one, a red-headed girl of about sixteen. The first cut she carved deep into her cheek. Clarke smiled at that. Lexa had a habit of staking her claim on whatever was hers, and that was often the face. She wasn’t surprised that Lexa marred the faces of the other five as well. 

First went people who had friends or family that were killed by the flares. Then the hunters, in return for all the trouble they’d gone through with less and less prey to hunt. Then everyone else. The last few cuts went to the higher powers, such as Indra, Anya, and Gustus. 

Finally, the last cut was made, and Clarke was handed the knife. She watched the skaikru out of the corner of her eye, saw how they pointed and whispered about her. They looked betrayed. Well, she couldn’t help where her loyalty lay. It was not with them. It never had been.

She gave the first five a swift death, through the heart and back out again. The last one, though, she had issues with. He acted similarly to how Finn had the last time. Flirty, trying to be charming, and overall annoying. She didn’t care much for that. What she did care for was the blatant disrespect he had for everyone but himself.

Clarke growled deep in her throat. “Perhaps this will teach you some respect, _slogen goufa_.” She pressed the blade of the knife to his hip, letting it rest there for a moment before she ripped down, tearing through his femoral artery. He screamed and she grinned in satisfaction, feeling the blood splash onto her clothes. He was practically sobbing after all the torture, and Clarke left him to bleed out.

She looked to her ‘people.’ Skaikru. She’d done this to protect them. Did she care about them? Some of them. There were many who she knew it wasn’t their time. Some that she could care less about whether or not it was their time. But she wouldn’t let the innocent suffer.

Clarke looked through their ranks, feeling each one shrink under her gaze. “I protected you from death by doing this. If you try and cause war again, I won’t be there to save you next time.” She turned on her heel and walked back, handing Lexa her knife and wiping the blood off her cheek with the back of her hand.

Lexa raised the bloodied knife high into the air. “Justice has been served!”

The people cheered loudly, chanting their Heda’s name. Clarke felt a burst of pride for the woman. This amazing human, deadly, ruthless, cunning, was all _hers_. It made her insides light up with heat and had Wanheda greedily calling for her fellow spirit.

Lexa broke the chants and the Trikru began to disperse, celebrating their vengeance and preparing for the next day, which would be of mourning. Clarke stepped up close beside Lexa, a hand trailing up her arm as she whispered into her ear. “So, _ai flaim_ , what do you say about celebrating our new alliance?”

Clarke’s hand touched the exposed skin of Lexa’s neck and they both had to hold back gasps as Heda and Wanheda rushed to meet each other, engulfing them both with the urge to feel, to touch, to _take_.

Lexa nudged Clarke toward her tent with as much dignity as she could manage at the moment, both of them grinning like fools. Their spirits rejoiced, calling for more, more, _more_ , and who would defy such powerful beings?

They stumbled into the commander’s tent, Clarke immediately grabbing Lexa by the collar and shoving her back against the cot. Their mouths were on one another's, hungry and lustful, full of sparks and fire. Teeth clashed, tongues tangled, hands roamed up and down, Clarke yanking hard at the straps of Lexa’s armor. She groaned loudly, rushing to dispose of her coat.

Everything was a blur of heat, and they were soon falling naked into the cot, bodies pressed as close as they could go. Their insides exploded, skin tingling, eyes glowing, hands restless and minds unsated. 

They staked their claim on one another. Lexa left raw bruises up and down Clarke’s jawline and Clarke gave her violent scratches that were sure to last days on end. 

Heda and Wanheda were finally together again, and no force could keep them apart.

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of trig phrases I didn’t put the translations to in story:  
> (ai) fleim - (my) flame  
> Kongeda - coalition  
> Faya kom ai tombom - fire of my heart  
> Lukot - Friend  
> Slogen goufa - lazy child


End file.
